yesterday i was doing some bike riding at the gym for an upcoming, tbd hoohah, and realized that the old (at LEAST 60+) dude next to me was riding faster than me. so all 24 years of me got pissed and pedeled away, sweating and swearing and vowing to not let an old fart be faster than moi. we raced away, with me pulling ahead, and then him, with JT singing in my ears, and serious pit stains on my shirt.

when the dude got off his bike 8 MILES later, it became clear that even if I had pulled ahead in the final stretch he really won, as the dude had a PROSTHETIC LEG. for serious.

things that i had forgotten about, but recently remembered:

- that one time in pittsburgh when the homeless lady chased me around the library with a knife
- how much i love guacamole
- that montel is the worst show on tv
- a daily bath is the bomb
- babies smell bad sometimes
- how often i madeout in the movies in high school
- mom+dad=awesome
- if i'm outside, i'm happy
- rilo kiley is a pretty good life soundtrack

no, but seriously, the only things more stressful than moving is waking up on the morning you are supposed to move to find that your car has been towed, with your cell phone sitting in it's cup holder.

i'm just saying.

it was THAT (see above) kind of morning, quite explicitly that kind of morning, and i'm still reeling a bit. i've got a to-do list a mile long, but at the end of it, i'll be moved in to a sweet new home, with my own parking spot that i'll never be towed from. sigh.

13 things that make it stupid obivous the world is ending, or at least gone entirely mad:

1. i've eaten salad 3 times this week
2. with wind chill, it was 5 degrees today. in HOTlanta.
3. britney. fucking. spears'. head.
4. grey's anatomy sucked hard this week.
5. i been running three of the last 6 days.
6. one of those times was today. in the awesomely un-balmy weather.
7. i haven't been on a date in two weeks. okay, 10 days, but still. cra.zay.
8. my last paycheck was double what i was expecting.
9. i'm currently wearing long underwear under another shirt. i'm bringing back the seventh grade look BIG TIME.
10. i listened to an interview on npr today and thought "who is this brilliant, articulate man?" it was ralph nadar.
11. i've woken up for the fifth night in a row in my closet, in a panic, sure that someone is going to see me naked.*
12. i think i have fallen in love with jumping jacks.
13. i think i have fallen out of love with beyonce.


*i live alone, and no one is gonna see me naked anytime soon. (see #7)

dear boys,

thanks for the drinks. thanks for making me feel hot and funny and interesting and charming. thanks for giving me an excuse to buy the red polka dot dresses, and thanks for complimenting me on how i look it in. thanks for introducing me to the farmers market, to mjq, to ducati bikes, to front-row at turner field, to running, to tequila. thanks for re-introducing me to a charlie brown christmas. thanks for the apologies. thanks for calling two months later to say you missed me. thanks for not waiting to call. thanks for dancing with me without me having to ask. thanks for the free bed. thanks for the home cooked food, the hikes and the sweet voice mails. thanks for not letting me beat you at texas hold 'em. thanks for letting me beat you at pool. thanks for letting me take a few of you out for test runs, and then return you for a better model. thanks for letting me run a few of you into the ground. thanks for the ear kisses, forehead kisses, neck kisses and back of the knee kisses. thanks for letting me kiss you.

it's been a tricky few months, but i'm so glad you're here to keep me company, keep me humble and keep me laughing.

a warm and happy valentines day to all of you.
-leenie

my dad is coming to help me move. my dad is the bomb. not only is he the bomb at dressing as the angel of the lord (see above), he's also the best moving man you've ever met. he'll be here for 48 hours. Without a doubt, while here he will accomplish the following:
taking apart the bookshelf from hell, buy me a 'happy new home' plant, re-assemble the bookshelf from hell, move all of my crap while simultaneously saying "no problem, this is easy easy easy, no problem", take me on the grocery shopping extravaganza 2007, do my laundry, give me cold hard cash, go out and get me mexican food when i'm sitting in the middle of my new home in tears because geez, that picture just looks WRONG there, and finally, snore. loudly.

best. dad. ever.

nine sweet pieces of advice to myself on February 7th, 2007.
(Inspired by schnozz)


1. keep making an effort to look really fucking good. wear high heels more. rock the classy cleavage and the short(ish) skirts. you'll get laid more, and feel skinnier. both are really good things.

2. get really good at your jobs. take the accounting class. take the pilates certification. get really good at both, and then ask for more money from both companies. you're really good at the people side of them, get just as good at the expertise, technical side. it is feasible for you to run either of the companies in the next three years if you get focused and competitive. do it now.

3. do not give up on the men. the only thing worse than a single woman is a sniveling, jaded single woman. plow on, slog through the shitty, silly blind dates, and the sad, distant more-right-for-you boys. with any luck, you'll look back on this phase of your life as the most carefree, simple, sweet time.

4. go see dreamgirls. at the drive-in. with amy and elise.

5. move more, drink less. just cause you have a 'sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body doesn't mean you shouldn't have 'SUPER RIDICULOUSLY sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body. you are in your twenties. look hot NOW, before babies and full time computer jobs ruin your ass and gravity ruins your boobs.

6. start packing up boxes. now.

7. remember that one time that you talked to the therapist over christmas break and felt so much better and like you had a clear plan, you just had to do these two tasks? and you were going to take care of them in january because, sheeeeesh, THEN at least some life business would be cleared up and wouldn't that feel so GOOD?...
well, take care of those things. now. this week. being scared to deal isn't an excuse not to deal.

8. keep talking to ogy and hedu and manna. they knew you when you were fat and ugly and uninspired. they like you a lot.

9. remain vigilant about talking about what you like about your situation. you used to be good at this, and 2007 seems to stalled those efforts. they are a self fulfilling prophecy. get back to it. talk about the jobs and the dating and the new home and the sweet city and the new babies and the lovely friends and the general awesomeness of it. keep voicing it, and it will keep being true.

inspired by her: i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.


last night i swam, thought about how i'm not really a swimmer, certainly not like the swimmer next to me, hell, i don't even have a swim cap or goggles, good god i am not a swimmer why am i swimming.
the ladies showed up early for class, so i floated around and talked to them sitting on the side of the pool, and one of them brought up again how i should consider midwifery, and how she would love to hire me, and i think she thinks i wouldn't lose my mind out of sheer 'holy shit-ness' if i delivered an actual living baby. the class started, and we giggled like usual, and laughed at how there are babies in all of them, but they are all such different moms already. one has shoes to match every outfit, and one hasn't bought a single thing. they are both going to be good moms, but last night we just laughed at how that is possible.
i then made my weekly amy/ken rounds to drink wine and watch greys and talk during the commercials. we talked about my boy of the month (s), and her little sons, and how boys are boys, 3-30. she had dinner ready for me again, and told me stories about her meeting ken and falling in love and we poured white wine into our red wine glasses to make rose. she listened to my s fears, and as i walked out of the door she had me laughing loud at my own silliness, and inablity to deal.
i went on a late night blind date after that-- he was all muscles and long pauses and stares and wanted me to have another drink, or maybe go somewhere else, and i was all 'maybe this could work, but only for a night' but refused the drink, and the offer of a new location, and came home to a text from him that i answered with an 'i don't think we should see each other again' email.
i'm still unsure about s, and he's spending the weekend with boys, and with mourning, and i today i want to ask him to just call my in three months when things have settled, and he has settled so we can see then. new things are hard.
this morning i taught class, and then sat in the nicu with a new mom and her freshy twins and freshy worry. i missed my mom.

yesyes-- i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.

due to a new life plan (i'm calling it the 'food/move plan', due to it's focus on food and, well, moving) i have become a bit more aware of ye olde alcohol this week. the food/move plan is awesome for many reasons, but mostly because i only have to implement any given change for ONE WEEK, and then the next week i get to do something else. because really, i can avoid sugar-covered-fried-balls-of-yum for one week, but day eight? that's when it all goes to shit.

anyways, this weeks food part of the food/move plan involves cutting down a wee bit on the booze-a-roo. remember, this is only for ONE WEEK. next week=me.sauced.24.7. last night i had a little dinner hoohah to show off my new cooking prowess, and a few bottles of wine were consumed. (not by me. i had a glass. if this was next week {or really, last week} i would have answered yes to the few bottles question). this is where i show you my willpower face. WILLPOWER (grimace grimace)

the move part of the food/move plan this week is infinity easier than cutting down on the sauce. this week, it's swimming! really! i've already gone twice, and i've already remembered how much i heart heart swimming. mostly because no one can talk to me underwater, and because i don't wear goggles so i get to make a super tough squinty face when i come up for air. it's rad.
now, having a move part in the food/move plan might seem like a bit of overkill, given that i teach exercise classes a week. that's more exercise than god.
however, teaching exercise doesn't quite=normal exercise. certainly my muscles get the workout, but my brain doesn't get to check out. that's what i'm missing, and why there is a move component in the food/move plan. i want to get to that sweaty, forget about the rest of my life place. especially if i get to make a squinty face in the process.

things i am considering:

- forensic accounting
- how to be the type of person who can taste a blend of herbs and identify them. all. correctly.
- how to be a good friend
- midwifery
- time spent alone vs. time at work vs. time with friends. reevaluate for happiness.
- babies born too soon.
- weekly exercise/diet goals governed by chance.
- discover cards offer of 0% apr on transferred balances for the year.

thank god the sun is out today. it's crispcold, but i no longer feel like flushing myself down a toilet, or other such desperate measures. phew.
*
as someone who dates a lot (understatement) i've been reminded (againagain) of this whole 'baggage' idea. i remember thinking around 21 or so that i was reaching the place where every man i met would have some 'deal', or trippy ex girlfriend, or other such things on the "what you should know about me before we decide that we are more than fuckbuddies" list.
in the middle of one such conversation recently though, it became clear that as i get older the baggage gets heavier, and most certainly trickier to negotiate. now there are ex-fiances, or wives, jobs that don't include time for late night shenanigans, and death, and things that are hard to say aloud. tricky, tricky things, that i'm not nearly deft enough to navigate.
*

i got my first real simple magazine in the mail this week. i inhaled it in like 1 hour.
i got my first discover magazine in the mail this week as well, and have only made it through two (two page) articles. shit is dense, but just as good (at least) for the soul as r.s.' touchy-lovely hoohah. one of the articles was about this new strain of disease (condition?) due to the over prescription of antibiotics. kills people quick. and is super contagious. and something absurd like 20% of people who are hospitalized for two weeks or more due to another issue end up catching it in the hospital. (!!#$).

another reason to steer clear of el hospital. (silent h).
*

i got home from work tonight at 6:30 to find a note on my door, explaining that there will be someone coming to see my place at 9AM tomorrow.

AM people.

i'm aware that i have a more 'lax' schedule than some friends ( i'm also aware that i have a much more 'lax' income as well). 9am is the absolute earliest i get out of bed on any given day. usually, the alarm isn't set, and it's more like 10:30.
before you freak, understand that i work at night. usually, i teach til 9 o clock. oh, and all day saturdays. oh, and friday nights. and sunday nights too.

wednesdays are the super sweet, almost like a day off days.

tomorrow is wednesday.

i've yet to decide how i'm going to deal. get up at 8:55? sleep through the knock at my door and proceeding tour? get up at 7 and scrub the tub? hard to say.
certainly isn't going to be fun though, promise.

i love my home. i love the big ceilings, the pretty wood floors, the 45 natural gas lines that grid out the ceiling, the pool, the gym, the green bricks, the lack of closet doors and the way that people, when seeing it for the first time say "oh, it's so cool*."


so, naturally, i'm moving.

my lease goes up at the end of febraury, and in an effort stave-off the descension of the yearly antsies, i'm sorting clothes, throwing away old makeup, giving away chick lit, and moving.

damn antsies. making me give away jodi piccoult books** and lavender eyeshadow.

this is the first time i've tried this approach: to attach the boredom that hits around month 10 or 11 of a job/life/town. see, i really lovelove the job/life/town situation i'm rocking, but in all honesty, the antsies don't really care. if i ignore them they will start whispering about grad school, and far away friends, and more money for work, and all of a sudden i'll be applying to move to china to work with babies who don't have mommas. or arms. or something***.

so we'll see. i am feeling the same thrill of 'oh! new-ness! i'll probably make friends and have a cute couch and sit on my porch drinking martinis and be 10lbs thinner!'. i think THAT's actually the genesis of the antsies, so if i can feed them without giving up all the OTHER awesomeness of my life (see: job(s), friends, sweet friday nights) then i will have won.

antsies:14 (approximate amount of times i have made drastic life changes for no reason)
leenie: 1.



*"cool" is not something i usually aim for. but in this case, it's a pretty apt description, and is used with such frequency to describe my place that i've come to believe it.
** not really chick lit, but still. ::shudder::
**no offense china babies. you are cute even without arms, and i'm pretty sure there are 72 other 20-something women who feel the same tug as i to come and feed you lunch. cause, you know, that's difficult without arms.